


Fitful

by PetrichorIllusions



Category: Kaleidotrope (Podcast)
Genre: But Harrison knows what to do, Domestic Fluff, Kissing, Literal Sleeping Together, Other, Sad Drew, Sleepy Kisses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 06:28:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29663148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PetrichorIllusions/pseuds/PetrichorIllusions
Summary: “Some nights sleep is fitful. Some nights, it’s lying in wait. And other nights, sleep has no interest in them at all.”Harrison and Drew can’t sleep.
Relationships: Drew/Harrison (Kaleidotrope)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	Fitful

**Author's Note:**

> I thought I’d got the make out fic out of my system, but apparently not. And then sad Drew snuck his way into this, too. Sad Drew and Sleepy Drew, my two favourite things.   
> As ever this fic probably wouldn’t exist without Jules - although it may have had a very different ending...

Some nights sleep is fitful. Some nights, it’s lying in wait. And other nights, sleep has no interest in them at all. 

That’s the case tonight, though not for lack of trying. The sun has long since set, the skies outside an inky black. Drew stands by the window, watching the clouds cover the stars. 

It’s the type of night where they alternate reaching the brink of sleep, until the other shifts; turns, and the tiniest of movements brings them back to full alertness. After the third time, Drew had given up. He’d waited Harrison out instead, curled against his back so no movement could stir him. 

When Harrison’s breathing had finally evened out, Drew had kept waiting. But it had stayed steady, and Drew had slipped away, pushing back the curtains just enough to create the space where he now stands.

“Drew?” Harrison calls from the bed, and Drew sighs. 

“I’m here,” he says gently. “Go back to sleep.”

Harrison ignores him. He stands as well, joining Drew at the window, eyes following Drew’s to the stars. The clouds whip past, blinking each pinprick of light in and out of existence in their turn. Harrison leans into Drew’s side, and Drew tucks an arm around him automatically.

It takes Drew a long time to realise Harrison has abandoned his study of the skies, turning his face towards his own instead. 

“You’re sad,” he observes, when Drew acknowledges his gaze. 

“Yes,” he breathes, as if it’s a revelation, the emotion slotting into place.

“What can I do?”

Drew looks back out at the sky. 

“It’ll pass,” he says, eventually. Harrison’s gaze doesn’t waiver, but Drew can’t meet his eyes. 

“What can I do?” Harrison repeats. 

Drew breathes out slowly. 

“Just this.”

Harrison smiles. 

“Can I open this?” He reaches for the window without waiting for an answer. 

“We’ll regret it in the morning,” Drew says, but he doesn’t reach to stop him.

The wind is softer down here than it is up in the clouds. The air it brings in is sweet, just too cold in that edge-of-season way. Drew’s chest expands under him as he breathes it in. The sounds become crisper too: a lone blackbird, up far too early or far too late; a car on a distant street, the only signs of other living things down in the world below. 

Harrison casts his eyes back to the stars, and waits.

The clouds continue on their journey. 

Drew’s rejuvenation, when it begins, starts with a shiver. He pulls Harrison closer, and Harrison turns in his embrace, tilting his head into his shoulder as his hand comes up to rest on Drew’s ribs. His every inhale is deep and slow, taking in all the night can offer him. 

Another shiver wracks through the tension in his body, the wind whistling away with his sadness in tow. Harrison can feel the relief work its way through his body. 

“Hi,” Drew says, resting his forehead against Harrison’s. 

“Better?” 

Drew nods. He’s not okay, not yet, and he won’t say it out loud until then. But better? Yes. 

His hand finds Harrison’s jaw, tilting his head up to press their lips together. It’s brief, chaste; the lightest of brushes. When Harrison smiles at him, it’s as if all the starlight missing from the sky is now in his eyes. 

“Come back to bed,” is all he says, and he pulls the window to before taking Drew’s hand.

The covers have cooled without them, and Harrison finds himself shivering too as they wrap themselves in the duvet, cocooning themselves in the middle of the bed. 

“Think you can sleep?” He brushes the backs of his fingers across Drew’s cheek. Drew turns his head with the movement, a lazy chase to kiss them before they drop. 

“Will you?” 

Harrison shakes his head. “Not yet.”

Drew watches him. The light here is even lower, too high up for the reach of the street lamps, with no moon to shine its way in. It doesn’t matter. Drew would know him with no light at all. He presses his fingers to his jaw once more, and touches his lips to his. It’s like his last kiss, the barest of pressure, but Harrison makes no move to end it, and when Drew finally pulls away he returns with his next breath. Drew feels the brush of Harrison’s eyelashes closing against his cheek, and still they kiss - nothing more, nothing less.

As if the air itself wants to join in, a draft from the window smooths across their faces. Drew turns his face to it, inhaling once more. 

When he returns to Harrison, Harrison can feel the ghost of a smile on his lips.

The next press of Drew’s mouth is firmer, enough to give Harrison pause. He opens his eyes again, squinting up at Drew. 

“No?” Drew checks, ready to pull away, but Harrison grabs at his wrist. 

“Not no. Just, if you’re going to kiss me until we fall asleep I think we should start off more comfortable.”

“Moving,” Drew grumbles. 

“You find my forward planning sexy,” Harrison reminds him, snickering.

Drew responds by snogging the breath out of him. 

“That doesn’t disprove my point.”

“Fiiiine,” Drew relents, but lets Harrison do the work of realigning them, his arm pulled under Harrison’s neck, their legs twined together.

“Better?”

“Much,” Harrison says. “You can kiss me again now.”

“Thank you,” Drew says, pressing clusters of kisses to the freckles covering his nose, “for the permission.” It’s not quite all he means, but that’s okay. It’s enough, for tonight. His hand rests on Harrison’s shoulder through the quilt, and he won’t deny it’s the most comfortable the bed has felt all night. Harrison tilts to kiss him once again, and finally Drew lets his eyes drift shut. 

The early blackbird whistles a tune outside once more, and each kiss is a slow exchange. Drew pulls away to yawn, setting Harrison off too, and the slow exchanges slow further still. There’s full moments they lie still, forgetting to part their lips, until slowly, sleepily, they forget to bring their lips back together. Harrison rests back further against Drew’s arm. Outside, the bird still sings, and the wind still whistles. The clouds keep blowing, letting the stars reveal themselves at last. 

And Drew and Harrison sleep.


End file.
